


Shut your mouth and run me like a river

by Anonymous



Series: musicians AU [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Musicians, Pining, Twitter, they're both famous musicians and fall in love that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23915962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: LV @princeofrock—-RT: @RollingStone Laurent Vere (“sharp tongue.”, “verisimilitude”) announces a ten-date tour, starting February 2021 in Europe rol.st/3a39f8Damen @thedamianos—-REALLY excited to see what this guy is going to do next! @princeofrock RT: Laurent Vere announces a ten-date tour…(Liked by @theladyjo, @princeofrock, and 10,398 more…)
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), implied Jord/Nikandros
Series: musicians AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736746
Comments: 37
Kudos: 335
Collections: Anonymous





	Shut your mouth and run me like a river

**Author's Note:**

> i am five years after everyone else with this fandom but BETTER LATE THAN NEVER  
> had this idea and ran with it? hope y'all enjoy too!!

“So, to give you a heads up,” Nik says, falling in beside him as they’re walking down the hallway, “I’ve heard this guy’s got a bit of a reputation.”

They’re on their way out from the record label offices to head to the recording studio downtown. Damen’s booked to feature on Laurent Vere’s song.

The singer Laurent Vere, who is currently the favorite to win Best New Artist with only two other singles to his name. The name whose been on everyone’s lips recently, and one of the best vocalists this decade, in his not entirely unwarranted opinion.

Damen’s been in the game long enough to know talent. Just from that one song that’s been playing everywhere on the radio the past few weeks, he can tell that he’s got it. It’s why he agreed to show up today. He’s more than a little looking forward to meeting him.

Keeping his voice down, Damen asks, “What exactly are we talking about?” He wants to make his own impressions of the man, but then he sees that Nik has that look on his face like when Damen had to tell him about the entire Jokaste situation. “He hasn’t killed someone or something, has he?”

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Nik says instead of clarifying. “My friend - the one who works with him, he mentioned that he can be a little… difficult.”

Ahead of them, his security team’s swinging open the doors to the lobby.

“Okay,” Damen says slowly because Nik’s evidently waiting for a verbal response from him. “So he’s the spoiled pop star type? It’s not like I’ve ever come across any of _those_ before.”

Nik actually stops him from moving, right in the middle of the hallway, by putting a hand on his chest.Damen barely stops in time to avoid the collision. “My friend just told me that he’s fired three people from his team this past month,” he says, looking around like this is some kind of high-level intelligence. “He’s got a lot of sway with the record company, so don’t do anything stupid today.”

“Okay,” Damen says again because he’s not quite sure what else to say. “I won’t throw my sparkling water at him, then.”

But Nik’s eyes narrow. “I don’t think you’re taking the warning seriously.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m not going to go in there and try to piss him off!”

“I’m telling you,” Nik enunciates, “Do _not_ do anything stupid, and I don’t mean just pissing him off.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s blond, talented, and apparently very picky,” Nik says. “I know you.”

“What, you think I’m going to jump him in the sound booth?”

“You have a type.”

“I do not - “

“Do. _Not_. Do _anything_ dumb.”

Damen does roll his eyes now. “I will restrain myself, thank you very much.” _You have one really spectacularly awful relationship with another artist, and that’s anyone ever thinks about anymore._ “Can we go now?”

Nik removes his hand, mostly because they probably will be late if he doesn’t let them keep walking to the car. “Just so we’re on the same page.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Damen mutters because Nik might be his best friend, but he does get overprotective, to say the least, sometimes. He gets ready to step outside now, pulling his hoodie up over his head.

Outside, there’s a crowd of paparazzi and fans gathered, between him and the waiting car. Damen waves to some of his fans, forcing a grin on his face even as the flashes go off at an incredible frequency so close to his face. Someone’s got a vintage-looking tee shirt on, the cover art from his first album, and Damen gives her a thumbs up to more cheers.

The car is blessedly silent as they close the doors, and the driver smoothly pulls away from the curb with both of them in the backseat.

Nik is on both of his phones the entire time, occasionally glancing up with a frown at Damen that’s utterly unrelated to anything he’s doing at the moment, and then back down.

Damen pays him little mind - he’s got an idea for a hook in his head, and he hums a little under his breath, taps his fingers as he works it through. The music never stops and all that, after all.

\-------

It’s not like Damen’s career is relying on this one feature.

He can admit that his career’s stalled a bit, the past few months. He’s not above it. It’s hard to stay relevant nowadays, and even though it’s not like he’s afraid of being broke anytime soon, he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t have the occasional bad dream of losing it all.

Like Kastor had told him, in one of their especially brutal fights, _everything you have is because of your name, you’ve never had to work like the rest of us_. Like Damen didn’t move out at sixteen, submitting demos under a fake name because then, everyone saw Akielos and thought of his father.

Now, people saw Akielos, and only maybe they thought of the record company mogul. Now, some people think, _hey, isn’t that Damianos’s actual last name?_ He’s worked hard to make that happen.

On particularly bad days, when he needs to call Nik in the middle of the night to talk him out of the wave of anxiety, Nik reminds him about his foundation, the work he could always retire to doing. Damen knows he’s incredibly lucky to have that to fall back to, but he also knows that he lives to make music, to share it with the world. Living without that - Damen’s not sure he knows how to.

But what’s truly terrifying, though, is the feeling he’s had recently, growing and growing inside him. That maybe he’s not able to live without it - the celebrity, the touring, the pace of this life.

Because what might be worse than falling out of the public eye is the idea that the dissatisfaction he feels most days has nothing to do with famous, and all because he doesn’t know what he wants.

So maybe Kastor has gotten into his head, after all.

 _Broaden your audience with this gig_ , his agent had said, _Work with some new talent,_ implying _refresh yourself._

Maybe Damen isn’t so good at hiding the fact that he feels like something is missing.

\-------

Damen’s first thought, upon seeing him, is that Laurent Vere’s hair is far brighter than any of the paparazzi photos he’s glimpsed - white-blonde, nearly otherworldly.

His second thought is, _How can someone that beautiful have that ugly of an expression on his face right now_?

“You’re late,” the man standing by Laurent Vere says, addressing Nik. Managers speak for their clients most of the time, and Damen’s more than used to his peers using their teams for basically every and all professional communication, including in-person.

“Apologies,” Nik says for him, only blandly because they’re under two minutes over their agreed-upon time. Damen confirms this with a hopefully stealthy glance to his own wristwatch. “We’ve taken the liberty of booking the studio for the rest of the day, so we won’t have to worry - “

“I can only assume that you’ve falsely presumed the importance of your role here,” Laurent interrupts in a silky voice, rising. He’s shorter in person than he would have guessed. “There are plenty of other people I could have invited here today, and I don’t like to wait.”

Nik transitions his look to the other man, injecting a tone into his voice that Damen affectionately thinks of as _politely bitchy_. “Of course. We’ve been looking forward to - “

“So why should I stay and wait around for your mediocre contribution?” Laurent’s eyes are right on Damen, then, as if daring him to snipe back.

Damen feels his own jaw tense. Nik’s elbow just barely brushes against his. A warning, maybe, making Damen stifle his answer as Nik says, “There’s no need to be hostile, Mr. Vere. As we agreed - “

Laurent raises a single hand, and Nik stops talking - before making an stifled, outraged kind of noise, like he hadn’t intended to do that. Damen feels another flare of annoyance, but a little bit of begrudging awe, because Nik isn’t exactly the person to easily shut up with a hand gesture.

Laurent says, “Does he speak?” He’s looking at Damen right in the eye, and any annoyance is quickly replaced by - something else. His cheekbones look like they’re carved out of _marble._ “Or just try to sing?”

“Oh, I’ll sing for you, sweetheart,” Damen answers before he can help it, “Isn’t that why waited here anyway?”

Nik’s elbow lands solidly in his side, professionalism be damned. Damen can’t even feel it, because Laurent’s eyes narrow, and his world does, too, to him.

Something electric zips down his spine, as Laurent says, in a voice that’s too soft to be anything but dangerous from a man who looks like that, “Is that so?”

Damen’s third thought is, _Nik might have had a point_.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” he says breezily. “We’ve both got places to be, I’m sure. But I don’t mean to _presume_.”

Laurent’s eyes narrow even further.

\-------

Despite Laurent’s threats, he does stay, probably because they all know that Damen is the one with an established career here, and the record label’s probably putting much more pressure for the Vere name to come to something.

That, or Laurent’s planning on burning the demos as soon as Damen steps out, making some excuse about poor quality of the recordings, and never speaking to him again.

Damen goes into the recording room alone. That’s not so unusual, because everyone knows that artists can get touchy about microphones and setups, and that way Laurent can supervise how Damen sounds on his bit.

Despite the rocky start, Laurent slides into a business-like air much faster than Damen would’ve thought for someone new to this. They go over the lyrics and melody that Damen’s already heard, Laurent crisply informing him how he wants the final product to sound.

They start with the first take. Not that he’s surprised, but he can tell even before they play it back for him that it’s damn good. It’s been a while since Damen’s recorded anything new, and he relishes the chance to stretch his voice a bit, just as much having fun.

When the demo cuts in, Laurent’s voice shoots right in via the intercom. “You’re going sharp on the intro,” he says. “Again.”

Damen frowns. “Play it again.”

The technician obliges, and Damen listens carefully. For fuck’s sake, he is, just a _little,_ but not in a way that’s at all off putting. “It’s stylistic,” Damen argues, “Sounds brighter - “

“It’s off. Again.”

He does so. Laurent’s voice, nearly bored: “Too breathy in the third measure. Again.”

Damen tries not to grind his back molars, and they go again. During this time, he holds one of the notes on the last line of his verse just a beat too long, and he’s not at all surprised when Laurent’s voice crackles over the intercom, pointing this out.

Then it becomes kind of a game.

By the sixth take, Damen purposefully scrambles two of the lyrics up. Instead of the almighty voice of a speaker, however, the door to the studio opens as soon as he’s done.

“Tell me,” Laurent says, conversationally, as the door closes behind him with a muted thud, “Are you musically illiterate, or purposefully sabotaging your career today? I heard that you were a child star, but even taking that into account…”

Alone in the small room together, he’s no less intimidating despite his smaller stature, nor less gorgeous in the intense overhead light.Damen can practically hear Nik’s voice in the back of his head - _don’t do anything dumb_ \- and decides that he technically didn’t swear to anything.

“This isn’t exactly my breakout hit,” Damen says mildly, making sure the wires to his headset aren’t tangled. He’s more than a little impressed that Laurent is speaking like this to him, actually. If he wasn’t offended, he might even think it’s refreshing to have someone utterly disregard his career. “You need this to get certified more than I do.”

“I only work with competent people,” Laurent throws right back. “I must say, I’m disappointed that the man doesn’t meet the legend.”

He wonders how many people are on the other side of the glass, probably staring somewhat despairingly. “We’ve barely met,” Damen says, with an all too easy slide of a smile on his face. “Is all of this because you need a little more time to get comfortable together, before we do this thing?”

“My comfort is irrelevant - “

“Oh, come on, we’re all friends here.”

Laurent scoffs. “I don’t need friends.”

“No offense, but that sounds like something someone with no friends would say,” Damen says. “Want to go get a drink, sometime?”

There’s a muffled thump, kind of like what he might hear if his manager hit the other side of the glass. Just a guess.

Those blue eyes flash. “I want _you_ to sing like you _mean_ it.”

He would be well within his rights to storm out by now, he thinks, or at least trash talk Laurent to anyone respectable he knows after this. But somehow, he knows that he isn’t going to do either. Damen slides his headphones back on, and without taking his eyes off Laurent, he says, “You know what? I think I’m going to sing while I do the guitar. Let’s do another take.”

He picks the one up - a little short for his tastes, but not too bad.

With Laurent’s eyes on him, Damen sings his part, and he nails it in one take.

From the barely perceptible nod of Laurent’s head, he knows it too. He turns to open the door, and for whatever reason, Damen finds that he doesn’t want him to go. Infuriating backseat-singing aside -

Damen slides off his headphones. “You know, you should think about adding backing vocals to your chorus.”

Laurent’s hand stills on the doorknob. “Excuse me?”

“You want a radio-friendly hit to start the album off, right?” Damen points out, and he sees his hand fall from the door. “No one’s ever going to be able to match your vocals. Put a little something for the kids to sing along to, make them want to play it. Call it some advice from someone who’s been there.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“And yet,” Damen says, brazenly. “Come on. It’s been stuck in my head since I heard it, and I’m hearing it with - “ and he hums a little something, to give him the idea. “Just something to consider.”

Laurent turns to eye him again, and he’s not storming out in a self-righteous huff, at least. “You’ve been thinking about this?”

“Baby, I’m an _artist_ ,” Damen says. “I’ll give you the rest of my idea for free.”

Laurent studies him for long enough that Damen thinks that he might be considering how to tell Damen to get the fuck out. But then, surprisingly, he says, “Play it on your guitar again.”

Damen obliges.

\-------

When they finally emerge, much later that night, Laurent looks at him with something that would be indifference from anyone else, but Damen thinks it might be as close as respect as he would ever show.

“I’ll let you know how the production goes,” he says, in lieu of a _thanks_ or _good work today_ , but somehow, Damen finds that he’s satisfied with that.

Well. Not quite satisfied, because he’d been in the room while Laurent had recorded some of the backing vocals himself like had suggested - and _god_ , does he have the range. Something about the work of art that is that man’s face, and then hearing that surprisingly powerful voice come out of it, really makes his knees just a little weak. He’s always had a thing for competence.

“A pleasure,” Damen says, holding out his hand. Laurent takes it, after another long moment, nearly as if he’s expecting Damen to throw him to the ground. His hand is cool in Damen’s, as they shake hands.

Damen holds it for an additional beat. “Good luck with the rest of the album,” he says, giving him a smile, “Let me know if you want a second opinion on anything.”

Laurent scoffs before they’re finally leaving, but there’s something nearly fond in the way that he does it. Like the hours they’ve spent in that tiny room has made the tiniest of cracks in the ice-cold exterior, or maybe Damen’s just wistful here.

“Hey,” Damen says casually to Nik, once they’re in the car, “Does your friend know if Laurent’s seeing anyone at the moment?”

That earns him a sharp look. “ _No_ ,” Nik emphasizes,“The kid gives me heartburn. I’m making sure you sit as far away from him as possible at the next award show.”

A rather disturbing thought occurs to Damen. “Wait, he’s not, like, seventeen, is he?”

“I say kid loosely,” Nik says, and Damen exhales with no small amount of relief. “He’s like… twenty-something. I don’t care. Which you should not think about, at all, because that’s not relevant to someone who you will be very, very far away from.”

Damen persists, “But do you think he like men? I got a vibe, but could be - “

“What part of _no_ do you not understand?“

“You can’t _ban me from_ being interested - “

“Oh, I can goddamn try!”

It’s a little undignified, considering there’s a star with his name on it on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and yet he’s still scuffling with his manager in the back of a limo, like they’re children again. Nik gets Damen in a headlock, just as Damen’s knee jams somewhere in his side, wheezes into his ear, “You are - not - going to - _torpedo_ \- your - wellbeing - because - of - your _dick_ \- “

“Fine!” Damen grits out, “Let me go - what are you, _twelve_ \- “

“ _Jokaste,_ ” Nik emphasizes, and he finally lets Damen’s head go. “Need I remind you how that went?”

He might have a point. Damen grumbles, “No,” and he spends the car staring glumly out the rest of the window, just to make Nik roll his eyes and mutter something under his breath about Damen being a two hundred fifty pound child.

\-------

The next few weeks pass by in a blur. Damen had agreed to do a bunch of post-tour promotional shit, then a commercial job, and then on top of it, he’s starting to record his new album. It’s busy, though nowhere near as hectic as the tour had been, and he falls into the work easily enough.

He makes his way through Laurent’s discography, in between various stops and on the planes, telling himself that it’s just good to keep an ear on up and coming artists, beyond the wildly famous song. Laurent has a wiry, hard kind of edge to his songs, both in cutting lyrics and his actual singing - which in itself is a beast, much larger and stronger than anything he’s heard before.

Damen watches some of his performances, too, and finds that he likes those even more. Laurent puts on shows, apparently, nothing like the stripped-down performances that Damen prefers for his own gigs. Laurent has these productions with costumes and dancers, like he needs all of that when he’s got three octaves to comfortably jump around in. The effect is elaborate, ostentatious, somehow entirely at odds with the haughty aura he puts on. Yet it’s fitting, like he’s playing a game for everyone’ benefit, cultivating that mysterious rock star charm that’s taken the world by storm.

Damen follows him on Twitter. It’s not a secret that he’s collaborating with him on the upcoming song, and even though Laurent rarely signs any of the tweets as himself, he likes to think that it’s something, that the account follows him back quickly.

\-------

LV @princeofrock—-

RT: @RollingStone Laurent Vere (“sharp tongue.”, “verisimilitude”) announces a ten-date tour, starting February 2021 in Europe rol.st/3a39f8

Damen @thedamianos—-

REALLY excited to see what this guy is going to do next! @princeofrock RT: Laurent Vere announces a ten-date tour…

(Liked by @theladyjo, @princeofrock, and 10,398 more…)

\-------

Laurent is out promoting his album, and that means doing televised interviews and such. He has a regal tilt to his chin which Damen admires on the high-definition screen over a hotel breakfast one morning, as the interviewer asks, “Now, you’ve described this as a personal album - “

“I believe I called it raw,” Laurent says, “Not personal.” His eyes are rimmed in smudges of black, which Damen catches himself admiring just a little more than necessary.

“And you’ve also said that you’re not calling it your freshman album. What did you mean by that?”

“Like I said before, I’m not interested in a typical career progression,” Laurent tells him. His long legs are crossed in front of him, his suit immaculate. “I’m not going to label my work based on its mere chronology.”

The interviewer chuckles just a little nervously. Damen takes another bite of his toast. “Youmake it sound like you have at least ten albums planned already.”

“I have a career progression I’m following,” Laurent says coolly.

“You’re not afraid of burning out? ?”

“The only thing that will burn out is how music is shared,” Laurent says, “Such as the inevitable changes that media will undergo, as it becomes pressured to tell a certain narrative. Television news outlets, I believe, will become redundant first.”

The interviewer stutters. “I only meant - “

“I know what you meant,” Laurent says calmly. “What’s your next question?”

Damen laughs out loud.

\-------

billboard @billboard—

Laurent Vere called pop music “unoriginal” and “not worth his time” - here are six albums we think could change his mind (if he’d hear us out). Link in bio.

Carrie M. @CountdowntoD6 replied to @billboard: isn’t he having damianos ft on his album?? he's been pop since 2015 at least, and ill fight LV myself if he doesn’t like his music

Ed spiders @es293 replied to @billboard, @CountdowntoD6: I don’t get how people can listen to LV’s music, he’s too whiny. Plus I’ve heard he’s super rude IRL

Carrie M @CountdowntoD6 replied to @es293: he’s talented but really seems to shit on other people. Idk how long his career is going to last

LV @princeofrock—-replied to @CountdowntoD6

Don’t worry. I’ll be around for a while. lv

(Liked by @thedamianos and 3,499 more…)

\-------

Damen goes on record and says, “Laurent is one of my favorite artists. He’s truly talented, and I’m glad that we’ve been able to become friends this year.”

“Laurent Vere,” the reporter clarifies after a pause, sounding more than a little disbelieving. “After his negative comments about your genre, most of your contemporaries had some… strong words to say about him, this week.”

“He’s entitled to his own opinions, of course,” Damen says, rather cheerfully. “I like to think of myself as extending beyond one single genre, after all.”

Nik just shakes his head once he gets out of that interview. “You are playing with fire,” he tells him as they are led away. “No one’s calling him their friend right now. If he wasn’t making so much money right about now, no one would want to bring up his name at all.”

“He’s not _that_ bad.”

“He’s a snake, and I deeply, truly am afraid of the fact you apparently don’t see that.”

“Snake?” Damen is momentarily distracted by someone walking by - some PA, maybe - who shoots him a quick, knowing smile. He winks, and their dark lipstick curls up even more. Interesting.

“I’ve heard more of those kinds of rumors,” Nikandros says, a little distractedly when something flashes on his phone screen. “Most of his team hates him, apparently. His manager quit again.”

“He’s talented,” Damen says, “And he knows that.”

“Maybe he knows that just a little too much.” Nik looks up from his phone as Damen looks back at him in turn. “Did he blackmail you, or something?”

“What? No,” Damen says, the woman momentarily forgotten. “What exactly do you think I’ve done to get blackmailed over, though?”

“It’s my business to expect the worse,” Nik says rather airily.

\-------

Laurent sends him the final version of their song a few days before they’re going to release it.

Damen listens to it, and it’s _really_ good. It’s some of his best work, too. He’s just as admiring of the tweaks that Laurent had made, his contributions to the completed song.

He thinks if he was churning those kinds of songs out at twenty, he’d have more than a few additional framed records on his wall by now.

So he manages to get Laurent’s phone number from a friend of a friend of a friend.

<<This is Damen. Heard the song today. we should work together again :)>>

The reply comes several hours later, when Damen’s boarding the private jet.

<<How did you get this number?>>

Damen types <<its a small world and im a big fish ;)>>

<<Now I’ll have to change my number.>>

<<so ? what do you say?>>

<<Busy>>

<<I’ll let u think about it then>>

Laurent doesn’t text him back.

—

Rolling Stone @RollingStone —- Laurent Vere’s new single featuring Damianos is just as excellent as you’d expect. 5 stars in our review: [rol.st/3Cj395](http://rol.st/3Cj395)

(Retweeted by @thedamianos, @princeofrock, and 5,393 more…)

Damen @thedamianos—-

Heard you guys missed listening to me ;) RT @rollingstone Laurent Vere’s new single…

LV @princeofrock—-

@thedamianos can sing and play the guitar surprisingly well after all. lv

(Liked by @thedamianos and 393 more…)

vere is my soulmate @versimilitudefan99 replied to @RollingStone: i have listened to this song A HUNDRED MILLION TIMES IN A ROW NOW. When L does that kind of rough scream as Damianos goes on his guitar solo - instant orgasm, every time

Chris Q @chrisfromios replied to @versimilitudefan99: honestly, mood. Here’s to hoping they go on tour together, I would die happy!!!!!!

\-------

The song goes gold overnight.

It’s not even his song, but the hubbub means that his songs are getting a renewed audience, too. With the royalties, Damen puts down a deposit on a house near where his mother was born, and he arranges for a nice bonus for Nik, too.

When their song gets the first platinum certification, Damen texts Laurent again, with a glass of celebratory champagne in his hand. He’s hosting a party at his house, and he needs a minute away from being told _really great work, really something -_

<<congrats. Welcome to the legends table xoxo>>

He gets back nearly instantly <<you don’t stop, do you?>>

Damen smiles because it’s two am where Laurent is, where he's supposed to be performing early the next morning.

<<Are you an early bird?>>

<<Couldn’t sleep. Drunk now>>

<<don’t let me keep you from your fun ;)>>

<<I’m alon e in a hotel room. Somehow, it’s less fun than anyone says>>

Damen sets down his glass, makes an excuse to go out to the balcony, away from the celebrations. Outside, it’s quiet, the glass sliding doors muffle most of the sound. His thumb hovers over the call button, and then he decisively hits it.

Much to Damen’s surprise, Laurent actually picks up. “If this is some kind of welfare check - “

“No,” Damen says, “Well, kind of. You’re all right?”

“Yeah,” Laurent says, exhaling rather loudly into the speaker. “I don’t get drunk.”

“Sure.”

“Barring the current opportunity.” He switches topics. “You really want to record something else together?”

Something like anticipation swoops low in his stomach. “We sound good together,” Damen says. If this was a bad 2000s teen flick, he thinks he might be twirling the phone cord in his fingers at the moment. “Even you have to admit that. MTV called us - let’s see - a duet _to die_ for.”

“You’re not untalented,” Laurent admits, and Damen disguises his laugh like a cough. Not well enough, because Laurent sounds defensive next. “I listened to a few of your songs. I mean, I’ve heard you before, but not so much your recent work.”

“Oh,” Damen says, and finds he’s entirely too interested to get Laurent’s opinion on his music. “Here I thought they wouldn’t be to your taste. Too… unoriginal, right?”

“The way you play the guitar, I’ve never heard anything like it,” Laurent says, then makes a strangled noise like he hadn’t intended to say that. It’s maybe only the sign he’s been drinking.

He decides to gracefully let him recover. He’s a nice guy. “You know,” Damen tells him, “I’m home for at least the next week. You should come by then.”

“I don’t like it out west,” Laurent says, rather frankly. “Too much sunlight.”

“I bet you burn, don’t you,” Damen says, thinking of that pale skin. Then he kind of wishes he had some champagne to gulp, his throat suddenly tight at the thought. “You don’t live out here, right?”

“Thankfully not.” There’s a long pause, and then Laurent says, “My brother liked it out west. It was so different from where we grew up, and he liked the change.”

Damen tries to remember if he’d heard anything about a brother. “Nik - my manager, he was the opposite. I had to convince him to move here with me, before I made it big, told him that he was the only one I trusted not to bleed me dry out here.”

“You’re close to your manager?”

“He’s basically my brother,” Damen says, “I mean - I have a brother, an actual one. We don’t talk much these days.”

To put it lightly. As if sensing the wound just enough to try to press down on it, Laurent says, “Your half brother Kastor?”

“Wikipedia page stalking, much?” Damen tries to joke, even though most people on the planet probably know that Damen has a complicated relationship with his brother. “But yeah. He, uh, slept with my ex-girlfriend when we were still together.”

“I’ve heard.”

Of course, he has. Damen had an entire broken-hearted album dedicated to the whole mess, after all. It had gotten him a BET at least. “It’s kind of still a sore point between us, especially after she broke up with him. But you know, he’s family.”

“You’re a perplexing man.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You call me and talk about your feelings like we’ve known each other for years,” Laurent tells him. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you like that.”

“Maybe I like talking to you,” Damen says. “You’re not quite like anyone else I’ve ever met.”

He’s met with the sound of breathing, then something maybe like the clink of a bottle. Finally, Laurent says, “You should be careful. Not everyone is as generous with honesty as you seem to be.”

“Drink some water before you go to sleep,” Damen advises. “Though I have no doubt that you would eviscerate anyone who would dare ask you why you had to lip-sync tomorrow.”

“Fuck you,” Laurent says very easily, and Damen can’t hold back his laugh now.

\-------

Damen finds that he has another song in his head before he goes to sleep that night. He grabs his notebook and and a pen, and then decides to forgo those in favor of playing the guitar.

It’s an upbeat little song at first, something that he might’ve written for Jokaste years ago for an anniversary, bouncy and neat. On a passing thought, Damen tries to mimic the way that Laurent’s voice sometimes drawls out.

The notes get slower, moodier. It’s not what he usually plays, and yet he’s caught on the sound, thinks that he might be onto something. He feels like he hasn’t played like this in years - feels like whatever’s pouring out of his fingers is coming right from his soul, something far more intense than what he had started with, growing the more he plays and tests out the sound.

The sun’s already starting to rise, but Damen plays it again, and again until his eyelids start to get heavy. He scribbles down some lyrics before he finally goes to sleep.

\-------

Damen watches Laurent perform on air the next morning. The news anchors rave about _this emotional young man, really giving it his all, you can tell_ , all of them politely ignoring the drum set that has THE ELITE CONTROL THE MEDIA spray painted along the front.

Damen studies the certain tightness to his face, and he texts Laurent.

<<so how hungover are you?>>

<<Bastard>> he gets back pretty quickly, and Damen smiles as he pockets his phone.

\-------

Because he doesn’t ask Laurent, Damen has to rely on some sketchy internet searches to find out more about him. He’s never been one to read the tabloids — according to them, he has at least two children with Jokaste, as well as several terminal illnesses by now — but they give him pieces of a story he’s then able to put together on his own.

Auguste Vere, age thirty years old, killed in a car accident eight years ago. Survived by his younger brother, Laurent, predeceased by his parents. The same accident killed their uncle, who was the head of the record company which eventually signed Laurent on earlier this year. Laurent was in the car, the sole survivor.

Damen thinks this would be the kind of thing that sleazy tabloids would jump all over - the tragedy of the young star, and all that, only it seems that Laurent’s excellent PR team has tamped down any speculation around it. Maybe because it happened before Laurent got famous, and no one’s found a way to spin that story into a profit.

He feels a pang of sorrow for him, at that. It’s hard enough to be famous, let alone without your family.

\-------

Out of the blue, one day, he gets an email from Nik. _You’ve fucking done it now_ , Nik had written, before forwarding a string of emails to him.

It’s not what he expects, from that message alone. It turns out that Laurent wants to produce something with Damen, along with some other ideas for their collaboration. There’s some arguing over where the two of them will meet, between their managers and other agents, and there seems to be a consensus that if Damen agrees, it will be his song to release this time.

On his break from the recording studio, Damen writes back, _I have a full studio at my house in LA,_ making sure Laurent’s email is copied.

He gets a text message about an hour later.

<<If you’re jealous of my career and planning to behead me in a disturbingly oversized garage, you should know that the paparazzi will find out first>>

Then, <<even you won’t look good in prison orange.>>

<<No beheading planned>> Damen texts, then <<any equipment requests?>>

<<You said you had a full studio?>>

<<I know ur going to show up and demand some specific synth, so just lmk>>

Laurent sends a single middle finger emoji, which Damen finds hysterical.

He’s in a little deep, all right?

\-------

Laurent arrives in a nondescript car with another man, who’s carrying a briefcase and staying about two feet behind him the entire walk up the driveway. The car gets tucked behind a copse of palm trees which prevent any stray photographers from getting any shots into the property.

Laurent’s hair is longer, and in the sunlight, it glows. Damen refuses to think of carding his fingers through it. This is a _work_ thing, he forces himself to think.

“Suitcases like that usually carry lots of cocaine or severed fingers,” Damen says once they’re close enough, “So which is it?”

Laurent arches one unimpressed brow. “This is my bodyguard,” he says, with a lazy tilt of his head. “The case has the demos, since I don’t trust online servers.” He’s dressed in jeans and a simple shirt, without makeup, somehow still looking immaculate.

He really would like to hear what’s been recorded so far, but he can’t resist saying, “I thought I said I wasn’t going to murder you here.”

“Jord is going to patrol around, make sure no one’s snuck onto your property,” Laurent says. “I have a dedicated following.”

Jord eyes Damen like he actually might try to kill Laurent. “Nice to meet you,” Damen says, holding out his hand, which he takes like Damen’s going to try something. “Can I get you anything to drink first?”

“No, thank you,” Jord says, perhaps because he thinks Damen is going to try to drug him so that he can behead Laurent after all. “Sir - “

“Yes, I’ll be inside the whole time,” Laurent says, dismissing him with a hand gesture. Damen watches, with a raised eyebrow, as Jord goes to inspect the gate that leads to the back part of the house.

“Let me guess,” Damen says, as he leads them back into the house. “You either have a stalker, or you’ve gotten a reputation of slipping your handlers.”

“It’s very traditional,” Laurent says instead, looking up at the house. “Not what I expected from you.”

“I’m a man of hidden depths.”

“Did you have the columns installed?”

“Put them up myself,” Damen says cheekily.

“I presume you have air conditioning inside,” Laurent says, and Damen notices how he’s still wearing a full-sleeve shirt and trousers despite the heatwave. His hair, upon closer inspection, is sticking ever so slightly to his temples.

It does absolutely nothing to lessen the appeal of looking at him like this, Damen discovers, with some dismay. Laurent shifts and Damen remembers that he’s there for something other than to be ogled at by Damen. “Right,” he says, injecting cheer into his voice, “Make yourself at home.”

\-------

They go over the demos. Laurent has a very particular way of song-writing, it turns out, even now that they’ve established that Damen is capable of creating music. He goes in with a kind of single-minded self-assurance, artistic arrogance at its finest.

That means they argue.

A lot.

Damen’s not sure he’s ever simultaneously wanted to wring someone’s neck and kiss them at the same time before. The studio quickly gets taken over by pieces of paper, various instruments that he drags in, wires as Laurent borrows one of Damen’s electric guitars, to prove a point about the chord progression they’re working with.

Even though Laurent might fight him at every point, though, it just means that they both improve the initial demos in far less time than any other collaboration he’s had in the past. They’re nearly worthy to be recorded just like this, in all honesty.

Laurent makes him feel _alive_.

“You know,” Damen says when they’re taking a break from playing to raid his fridge and debate some finer points on lyrics, “I haven’t had this much fun, doing this, in years.”

Laurent, picking through a veggie plate and some sandwich cuttings, takes a bite of a carrot. He swallows, says, “The gleam of celebrity is fading in your old age?”

He’s sitting up on the counter opposite of the kitchen island, his feet swinging in the air like he’s the one who lives here. Instead of rude, it’s nearly _endearing_ , the way he’s unapologetic about taking space.

“I mean, you spend your early years fighting for a chance, and you don’t care who agrees to work with you,” Damen says. “Then when you get to the point when you can be picky about who you work with - and by then, you’ve got people who think you’re rivals, and then you have people who are trying to claw their way up, too, so they don’t push back when that’s what you need to grow.”

Laurent studies him in a slow, nearly lazy way. “You needed someone to push back.”

Damen comes around the kitchen island to face him, leaning back on his elbows. Like this, they’re at eye level. “You said it yourself once,” he says, “Honesty is in short supply.”

“That’s about as cynical as I’ve heard you ever be.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had to do a lot to get where I am. I remember what it was like to get my foot in the door.”

“Your father reinvented the way that music is produced when he started the Akielon label,” Laurent says. “People would call that nepotism, that you always had a foot in the door.”

He can feel his shoulders stiffen, a reaction he still can’t will away, even after all this time. Laurent must notice, because he adds, “Before you get all indignant, I think you could only keep a career in this industry if you’re smart about it. Talent helps, too.”

Damen smirks. “You said you listened to my music.”

“I listened to _some_ of your music. I like to know my rivals.” There’s definitely a smile teasing at Laurent’s face now.

“You think we’re rivals? Come back when you’ve gotten a few Grammys.”

“I think we know I’m a shoo-in for the New Artist. You better watch your back.”

“Oh, I’ll be watching you.”

He nearly swallows his tongue after saying it, but Laurent neatly finishes another carrot like he hadn’t heard. “Do you have any water?” he asks.

Damen goes over to the fridge, glad for an excuse to hide his expression. He tosses a plastic bottle to Laurent, who catches it neatly.

“Let’s go play,” Damen says suddenly, and Laurent raises both eyebrows. “There’s this bar I go, around the corner from here. Tiny place, I know the bartender. We could try some of this stuff out in front of a live audience, if you’d like.”

Laurent slowly twists back on the top to his water bottle. “You play there regularly?”

“For free whiskey, I do,” Damen says. “Come on. You’ll hate it, but it’ll be good for you.”

There’s a lengthy pause, in which he wonders if it’s just suddenly hot in here, or his palms are sweating from - something else. God, he hasn’t been this nervous since he asked Jokaste out, he thinks. Or maybe it’s nothing like that, because Damen might actually implode if this _thing_ with Laurent doesn’t work out, or he doesn’t want to do anything else with him - and once again, he’s caught by just how invested he is, this soon.

“We’ll have to ditch Jord,” Laurent says, measured, at last. “There’s no way he’ll let me go otherwise.”

He tries not to show his relieved exhale. “Luckily for you,” Damen says, “I’ve got a really fast car in my oversized garage, you know.”

\-------

Pallas brightens up from behind the bar as soon as Damen walks in, and he’s waving him over. The place is a little crowded given it’s only the late afternoon, but not enough that he can’t hear Laurent mutter something about sticky floors behind him as they head over.

“Karaoke night is tomorrow,” Pallas quips, already reaching for the whiskey as Damen gets close enough, “But if you want to do Sheryl Crow, then the mic is hot just for you.”

“Make it a duet,” Damen says, stepping a little to the side to reveal Laurent who had followed him in. “I brought a friend.”

“Shit,” Pallas says, evidently recognizing him despite the jeans and lack of eyeliner, then to Damen, “Is he even legal to drink in here?”

Laurent intercepts the glass. “I turned twenty-two four months ago,” he informs him, tossing back the whiskey. “Are we doing this?”

Damen grins, and he slings an arm around Laurent’s shoulders without thinking - and Laurent doesn’t throw his arm off, even if he can feel an exasperated sound from him, this close. “Oh, we’re _doing_ this, all right.”

\-------

Having Laurent sing with him to one of his own hits, Damen realizes that this has gone far beyond a work thing. The way that Laurent croons over the parts that Damen spend countless sleepless nights writing and working on - it just feels so right.

Singing together - it’s like they’re inventing something new, right there on the stage.

“We put this next one together just today,” Damen says into the microphone to loud cheers at the next break, “And we’d like to share it with you guys first.”

Pallas whoops something from across the bar.

“If it’s shit,” Laurent tacks on, “He’s the only one who wrote it.”

There’s laughter, as Damen strums the chords on his guitar. Laurent’s eyes catch his from the other side of the stage, and he’s not able to hide the smile that grows over his face, as Laurent closes his eyes, and starts to sing.

The light catches his face, the length of his light eyelashes, and Damen swallows, aware that anyone looking at them will see how he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight.

\-------

Pallas’s bouncer-slash-boyfriend, Lazar, shows them out the alley, where they can make their escape without getting mobbed by fans out front of the bar when it’s clear that’s what’s going to happen.

As soon as the graffitied door slams closed behind them, Damen nearly jumps when he hears a strange wheeze coming out of Laurent’s body.

He’s laughing, hard enough so that the noise is distorted. Damen chuckles, a little, mostly bewildered as Laurent wipes his eyes.

“I never thought I’d do that,” Laurent says, running a hand through that maddeningly soft-looking hair. “This - ah. It wasn’t a bad idea.”

“You sound like you don’t have enough fun,” Damen says, only half-joking. In the dim light out here, he watches as Laurent leans back against the concrete wall facing him, eyes bright. He’s far from drunk, but the alcohol in his veins means that he has the urge to tuck a piece of Laurent’s hair behind his ear.

He doesn’t let himself, though. He’s pretty sure that Laurent is drunk, if the red flush on his neck is a giveaway. They should leave, try to sneak away to get a cab or something, but Damen finds himself pinned in place by those eyes. In another place, another time, Damen thinks he would want to press Laurent up against that wall, kiss him hard like he’s trying to put them both through the concrete.

“I know I don’t,” Laurent says, straightening up so he can look fully at Damen. “I haven’t laughed that hard. Not since Auguste.”

In the moments that have passed by, Laurent looks far more collected and alert than he would’ve guessed. Damen blinks, and he says, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“When my brother and uncle died,” Laurent says, half to Damen and half to the brick behind his own back, “I was in that accident too.”

This alleyway feels far too anonymous, and it’s yet fully perfect for this type of conversation. “I heard about that.”

“He and my uncle were arguing when it happened,” Laurent says, like he’s remembering it right there, and his good mood evaporates just as quickly as it had taken Damen by surprise. “My uncle wanted custody of me. He thought that Auguste wasn’t fit to be a parent. I - don’t know what he thought. Auguste sacrificed everything for me, since our parents died.”

Damen finds himself pushing off the wall, slowly, as Laurent stays motionless, hands tight at his sides. “My uncle,” Laurent continues, unflinching, “He wasn’t a good person. Auguste protected me from him. If he - if he had made it, if only Auguste had died, I don’t know what would have happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Damen says, softly. He doesn’t know what else to say, to that.

“I don’t know why I tell you anything,” Laurent admits, and Damen pretends like it doesn’t hurt to hear that. “I’m not - fuck, I’m not drunk enough to explain _this_ , even. You just look at me like that, and it’s like I can tell you anything. That I want to.”

“Laurent - “

“I became a musician because that’s what Auguste wanted to do when we were kids,” Laurent continues bitterly. ”I wanted to, but only because he did, and somehow, I’m the one who gets to be alive with all of this now. It’s not - it’s not fucking _fair_.”

“It’s not,” Damen tells him. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve that, that you don’t deserve to be happy.”

Laurent’s eyes are as large as the moon, somewhere above their heads. “You say that so easily. How can you just say that?”

“Because I think I might be starting to know you,” Damen says. He swallows, says, “It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’ve been hurt.”

Laurent pushes off the wall with a huff, too fast. “Right,” he says, acidly, “Poor, little, hurt Laurent, who doesn’t know what he wants - “

He stumbles, a little, and Damen catches him, steadies him before he can fall. “I think the whiskey was a little strong for you,” Damen admits, as Laurent’s hands come up as if to push him away, but never end up making contact. “And you are many things, but I think you know exactly what you want.”

Laurent is quiet for long enough that Damen wonders if somehow, impossibly, he’s fallen asleep while fully standing. But then he says, “I still don’t understand what it is that you want.”

“Mm,” Damen says, “I like it when brand new artists call me mediocre wash-outs, then show up and make me record some of the best music of my career.”

Laurent lurches, a little, and Damen pats him on the back. Laurent’s bodyguard is definitely going to kill him, probably bury him on his own property.

“What I truly want,” Laurent says, rather roughly, “Is to never drink again.”

“There, there,” Damen says, sympathetically.

\-------

TRENDING:

#D&LsNightOut

#whyihatekale

#LaurentVere

#dreamduoidea

#Saturdaythoughts

#heresmydog

Damen @thedamianos—-

For someone who says he doesn’t like pop, @princeofrock can belt some Adele on command xx

(Liked by 2,498…)

LV @princeofrock replied to @thedamianos: I blame that awful whiskey. lv

\-------

Someone who was at the bar shares a blurry video of the two of them playing the cover of Damen’s old song. Damen scrolls down his Twitter feed, to various reactions, feeling something warm bloom in his chest every time he sees something about their _chemistr_ y, or about how Laurent apparently was staring at Damen - all the times that he didn’t notice.

Around midday, he texts Laurent <<hope ur not in too much trouble w Jord>>

<<It’s not the first time. He does think you’re officially a bad influence>>

Damen laughs, weakly. If only Jord knew just how many of his dreams were now starring Laurent, in startling erotic detail - and, maybe more embarrassingly, all the times that Laurent has brutally torn apart his ideas, and Damen has had to think decidedly non-sexy thoughts lest his reaction is seen by anyone else.

He’s interrupted from typing out a response by Nik, who just sends a row of angry face emojis. <<Pallas texted me this very interesting video. care to comment?>>

<<Relax>> Damen texts Nik <<you know, I think u would like him if u gave him a shot>>

He gets back a line of snake emojis.

Then, a single, <<I hope you know what you’re doing.>>

\-------

They get together to record the new song together the next week. It’s decided that Damen will release as upcoming to his own album, even though that’s months and months away.

It takes a couple of sessions to hammer out all the details. They record in the same room when it’s time to do vocals, reworking the song as they go. Damen takes Laurent out to lunches at various spots around the city, showing him where to get the best enchiladas, the best milkshakes, the best places to people watch where people ignore them just enough. Laurent steals french fries from his plate. Damen tries not to think about how he really wishes that he could just ask him out on a date like a normal human being.

On the final session, they work late into the night, where it’s only a technician or two to follow their directions. Until Laurent rips off his headphones, and he says, “It’s starting to sound strained.”

His voice is tight, and while it’s doing little to affect the quality of his voice, his jaw jumps like he’s taking personal trouble with it.

“Break?” Damen suggests, and Laurent nods once.

In the lounge, intended for artists to decompress or whatever during sessions, Laurent paces back and forth. Damen takes a seat in one of the plush chairs and waits, because he can tell by now that Laurent has something on his mind. He also knows that asking outright will only get him an avoidant answer.

Damen takes a sip of water, wonders if Laurent’s going to tell him he’s switching labels or something. Oh, or better - he’s managed to bribe Nik away from him, a thought that makes him snort inside. It would take a whole lot of money, but Damen supposes that if anyone could convince Nik to jump ship, somehow, it would be him -

He’s not quite expecting it when Laurent, seemingly out of nowhere, says, “I’m going to come out before the album is released.”

Damen decidedly does _not_ spit out his water. “Okay,” he says, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand. He hadn’t assumed anything, but it’s not a surprise to him, either.

“I mean,” Laurent says, decidedly not looking at him as he continues to pace, “My agent has advised that I do this in a certain way. But it’s not like it’s a massive… surprise to anyone, or that I’m seeing anyone who needs to be debriefed on what it will entail.” 

“Ah,” Damen says, rather intelligently.

Laurent turns to him just as suddenly, and Damen realizes it’s not the coming out part that he’s been working over in his head. “If you think that will be a issue to your audience for the single,” he says, as cool as he had been the first time they had met, “I wanted to let you know ahead of time, as a courtesy. I’m not offering to talk it over with you here, if it changes your opinion of me out of some misplaced heteronormative ideas, I can assure you that I have no interest in being your therapist - “

“Uh,” Damen interrupts, “I’m bi.”

He’s treated with the sight of Laurent caught off guard, stopping mid-step. “You are,” he says, as if echoing Damen’s sentiment. “Right.”

“Yeah,” Damen says, “So, no issue there. Congratulations, I guess?”

“I wasn’t… aware.”

“I could tell,” Damen replies, dryly. There’s an awkward silence that stretches out. He feels the urge to say, “I wrote _Anemone_ after a guy broke my heart when I was sixteen, so that’s a, uh, fun fact for you. In case you wondered - “

“That’s something I couldn’t understand in your music,” Laurent says, suddenly, and Damen can feel his eyebrows rise, “The heartbreak theme, you go back to it so much. I’ve never - “ and he cuts off, like he said too much already.

“No boyfriend, huh,” Damen fills in for him, after another long pause. “Like… not ever?”

“I’ve been busy,” Laurent says stiffly. Which - Jesus, is a thought that he can’t really process right now, though he’s sure that Laurent could tell him about a parade of boyfriends and Damen would still want him so much that it hurt.

“It’s all cool,” Damen says quickly. He hopes he sounds like that, or that Laurent doesn’t think he’s being weird about - _that_ specifically. “You don’t need to defend yourself. And you don’t need to have those same experiences to relate to, you know? When it comes down to it, it’s just about a certain kind of loss and hurt. And just because you’ve never - ah, had that specifically, does in no way diminish your appeal. Or so I’m told. As a concept.”

“My appeal, as a _concept_.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Damen says sincerely, because he’s wracking his mind and thinks of what he would’ve liked someone to say to him, when he had found out that _oh hey, bisexuality is the word for that_ , because that’s what he needs to be thinking about right now and that alone. “I’m glad you trusted me with that. And I only told you because I want to, uh, let you know, that I get what you’re coming from - what you’re _experiencing_. I - yes.”

“You’re talking too much,” Laurent informs him, and he’s crossing the room. And then he’s straddling Damen’s lap, to which he bemusedly holds his hands up to help steady him. And then there’s a hot, wet press of a mouth against his own.

Damen blinks once, twice, before he gives in - he’s only human - and Laurent’s mouth is sliding against his, just a little open and way too much at once, and _so far from enough_ -

Laurent makes some kind of pleased noise, when Damen’s hands come up from his sides - his water bottle falling somewhere to the ground - and he settles more against Damen, his weight warm and surprisingly heavy on Damen’s thighs, his hands coming up around the back of Damen’s neck to bury themselves into his hair.

Damen focuses on the swipe of Laurent’s tongue against his lip, and then he’s opening his mouth with a groan, as Laurent _takes_. He’s helplessly caught in the sensation of Laurent all up against him, pressed together torso to torso as he slides even closer, and Damen gasps into his mouth when Laurent’s hips roll down -

He wrenches his mouth away. “Wait, wait,” Damen gasps out, and Laurent pulls back just a little to frown down at him. “We need to talk.”

“Do we?” Laurent says, eyebrow arches - and Damen wants to press a kiss to where the thin skin of his eyelid stretches just a little to that, nearly aching with the want to do just that and to never let him go. But he drops his hands from Damen’s hair, says, “We can go to your hotel room, if you’d like.”

“Yes. I mean - fuck,” Damen says, with a ragged exhale. “We need - what is this?”

In response, Laurent grinds his hips down in a small circle, as if to fully demonstrate how Damen is going to _burst_. “I want you,” he says, looking at Damen right in the eye. “I know you want me.”

“Laurent,” Damen says, overwhelmed by the proximity. “I don’t - “

It’s the wrong thing to say, because Laurent’s face shutters, and he’s up and off Damen’s lap so quickly that he could cry.“I apologize,” Laurent says, stiltedly. “I misread - “

“You did _not_ misread anything,” Damen interrupts quickly. He feels the urge to tear out his hair, only then he would think about Laurent tugging on it - god, he wants to put his hands in _his_ hair now. “It’s not - it’s not just sex, for me.”

Laurent’s face is still shuttered. “What do you mean?” He doesn’t run, as Damen rises up on slightly shaky legs, gets close to him.

“I want to be your friend,” Damen tells him, putting emphasis on the word. “I think you need that, and I want that, too.”

“I don’t want to _need_ anything,” Laurent says flatly. “I’ve made it so far as a snake, haven’t you heard? You don’t need to pretend this is something else.”

Damen can’t stop himself; he reaches out, takes one of Laurent’s hands in his own. He thinks that it’s like the first time he’s really touched him, as simple as this. His thumb runs along the underside of Laurent’s pale wrist, where he can feel his heartbeat just under his skin.

“I’m offering my friendship,” Damen says, “Because I think you would do well with it.” Like his fingers aren’t twisted in Laurent’s, and he knows the look in his eyes is far from simply friendship, even as he tries to hide it, but he thinks that there can be no hiding that kind of feeling -

Laurent rips his hand away, but it’s not before Damen can see the look in his eyes in turn, the tremble to his lip.

“I can’t,” Laurent says, with a rare lack of words, before he’s turning and leaving him alone in that room.

\-------

The Grammys are coming up, and he’s not surprised when the organizers want him and Laurent to play their song together, the first one they had recorded.

He and Laurent sit on opposite sides of a table to set it up. There are a dozen other people there, agents and security lawyers and all sorts of personnel that are required with these kinds of plans.

Laurent is as viciously calculated as any of the entertainment lawyers there. He gets things set up his way, has the organizers bending over backward to his demands before they even realized they’d moved, even as Nik argues just as vehemently, more for the sake of arguing against him, he suspects.

Damen stays quiet, mostly because he doesn’t need much, and also because Laurent won’t meet his eye. When he gets up, at the end, he makes to slip out to follow Laurent - but he finds that Jord stops him with a light hand on his arm, instead.

“He told me to tell you that he’s got to be on a flight,” Jord says, but there’s a tiny flicker of something in his eyes. Pity, maybe. “He’ll be in touch.”

\-------

Laurent doesn’t answer his texts.

\-------

Nik answers his door, and he sighs. “You could’ve called,” he points out, holding the door open so Damen can traipse in under his arm with a duck, “Saved your security detail having to drive you out here.”

He lives nearby, but not close enough so that Damen can slip his bodyguards and go for a convenient run to go see him. He’d said something about _personal boundaries,_ probably after the fifth time he walked into Damen having sex when they had lived together.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Damen says, like Nik isn’t steering him to the couch, taking time out of his busy schedule to listen to Damen at this very moment. “Thanks. I, uh - “

“Okay,” Nik says, mercifully filling in the gaps, “So is it Jokaste? Kastor? Did one of them come and see you, or - “

“No, not them,” Damen says. He hesitates, because Nik can read him like a book, and also because he’s made his feelings regarding Laurent very clear.

“Christ,” Nik says, because he’s fluent in what Damen is trying to voice without actually having the words, “Has _he_ gotten you like this?”

“More like I did,” Damen says, sounding rather miserable even to his own ears. “I know you told me to stay away from him, but I didn’t. He’s not as bad as everyone thinks - “

“I didn’t warn you from him because he’s demanding in the studio,” Nik tells him. “I warned you away from him because I saw a picture of him, and I heard about how he acts, and I knew you would get twisted up over him.”

Damen exhales. “I can’t get him out of my mind, Nik.”

“Let me guess, he broke your heart,” Nik says matter-of-factly, probably unaware just how much it hurts to hear that out loud.

“Nothing _happened_ \- well, not really.” He thinks about the press of Laurent’s mouth against his. “He wasn’t ready. And I get that, but he thinks that it means that he has to pull away - that we can’t talk about it. _”_

“So help me, I don’t want to defend him, but it sounds like you need to give him space,” Nik says, as rational as ever. “You care so deeply. It’s why people are drawn to you - and it’s why people take advantage of it.”

“He didn’t take advantage - “

“I didn’t mean him,” Nik says, calmly overriding his protests. “There are people like him who don’t understand that you can love so freely like that, and it scares them. Jokaste didn’t know what to do with that kind of love, and I’ll guess that he doesn’t, either.”

“Nik,” Damen says, “He’s different. He’s not her.”

“Yeah.”

“He makes me remember why I want to make music,” Damen says honestly. “With Jokaste, I didn’t care if it meant that I didn’t record anything for months. With him - I want to have it all.”

“You’re going to have to give him space to think about all that, okay?” Nik says, with a sigh. “Then we can go back to our regularly scheduled arguing about him, which I like I lot more than you telling me about your feelings.”

He’s right, and they both know it.

“You’re my best friend,” Damen says, because he doesn’t say it enough. “I love you too, you know that, right?”

“Ugh, I love you too. Come on,” and Nik pulls him into a tight hug. “I will ask you a favor, though, in exchange for this emotional support.”

“Anything.”

“When you’re back on speaking terms with Vere — you know his bodyguard, that short guy? He was pretty hot.”

“Nikandros,” Damen draws out, with no small amount of glee. He pulls back, “Are you _interested?_ In a _boy_?” He avoids a swat to the head with a throw pillow.

“You fucking idiot,” Nik tells him, “You know the last time I’ve been laid? It’s been _a very long time,_ because I have your romantic issues to sort out instead. Life is short, and those man’s arms were impressive!”

“I don’t think Jord likes me very much,” Damen says fondly, “It’s perfect.”

“Ugh,” Nik repeats. “Just get me his number some time, will you?”

“You’ll have beautiful children together - _ow, ow, stop_ \- “

\-------

Damen gives him the space, and it means weeks of trying not to think about Laurent, and utterly failing.

Eventually, the Grammys arrive, and beyond a quick dress rehearsal together, during which Laurent had interacted as little as he had to with him, he hasn’t spoken to him in weeks. He just hopes that soon, it’ll be enough.

But he knows better than to rush it. For things that are this important - he knows that he’ll wait a lifetime for it.

Damen walks by himself down the red carpet. Nik is off somewhere corralling his social media people for the night - he had flatly turned down Damen’s offer to be his plus one - and he does a few interviews before heading in to get ready. The makeup artist leaves after touching up his face, and he does his regular pre-show ritual. He thinks he won’t see Laurent until they’re on stage together.

That changes, when there’s a knock on his dressing room door. “Come in,” Damen calls.

The door closes behind the visitor. Laurent is there, in a dark blue leather outfit, looking resplendent as ever with a fur collar and full-length gloves. His microphone pack is already on, and he must be heading out to the stage already, but he meets Damen’s eyes in the mirror all the same.

Laurent says, “I wanted to find you.”

“Hi,” Damen says, turning around just as quickly as he processes the sight of him, “You - uh- you look sharp.”

“I just wanted to say,” Laurent says at the same time, and they both fall silent. “You go.”

“Laurent,” Damen says, “You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry if I - “

“No,” Laurent says, quickly, “I didn’t realize that I liked being around you. These past few weeks - I found that out.”

It’s simultaneously the least romantic thing and the most, and Damen finds himself at a loss for words now. Laurent continues, as close to hesitant as he’s ever seen from him, “I… apologize, for how I’ve acted. You offered your friendship, and I would like that.”

Friends. He can do that.

“I haven’t taken it back,” Damen says, and he smiles. “Are you ready to show them how it’s done?”

Any uncertainty melts away from Laurent’s expression. “Am I? You look like you’ve just stumbled out of bed.”

“My messy hair is part of my authentic charm,” Damen throws back, easily, “I bet I spend less on hair gel than you do, actually.”

Laurent snorts. “That is a competition I do not care to get into.” He offers Damen a hand - even though the idea of Laurent managing to pull him up is more than funny to consider - and Damen takes it.

\-------

Performing with Laurent, in a room full of their musical peers and packed with people who are there to see them, Damen thinks that he might’ve had a dream about this, these past few months of knowing him.

In the end, they had gone with a stage display closer to what Damen is used to. It’s a simple set up that puts the attention on them, both of them standing on the main stage’s center with just the microphones, Damen with his guitar, and Laurent beside him.

The audience hushes as they go back from a commercial break, and the lights dim down to a rosy color that casts Laurent’s hair into rich shades of gold.

Damen’s entire body breaks out in goosebumps as the announcer says, “… and performing the now triple-platinum single from his upcoming album, this is Laurent Vere, playing _Two Princes,_ with the legendary Damianos.”

Then they're playing, and they’re on _fire_.

\-------

That same night, Laurent wins Best New Artist. He looks entirely unaffected when the camera pans to him on the announcement, strolling up to the stage like he has no cares in the world. 

The award presenter looks like she can’t resist leaning in to give him a kiss on his cheek. Laurent tolerates this, and then turns to the audience, holding the gold award. “I am not surprised that I won this. But I am happy to accept it.”

Laughter, though some of it is uneasy. Damen claps loudly.

Laurent hesitates, and then he says, “I first want to thank my friend for his advice and support.” Damen thinks that if the house lights were up, his eyes would find Damen in the crowd. “Without him, I know I would still be up here today.”

There’s a smattering of laughter, less uneasy this time. Damen smiles so hard his face hurts. “But it would feel less of a success,” Laurent says, then dips his head ever so slightly. “Thank you.”

\-------

He’s a fan of the afterparties, most of the time. Usually, Damen fully enjoys the revelries, falls into the party, and enjoys the swell of people all around him.

This time, he finds that he can’t wait for it to be over. He’s made the mistake of hosting it at his house, and Laurent has deigned to make an appearance, too.

He meets Damen’s eyes from across the room, raises his eyebrows. They’re playing their song over the speaker now, and Laurent’s lips twitch, as Damen purposefully lip-syncs one of Laurent’s parts.

The song ends, and Nik’s suddenly at his elbow, saying too loudly into his ear, “I spoke with him, you know,” and Damen cranes his neck to hear him better. “He found me before the show, told me that he hopes that we could get to know each other better.”

Damen’s eyes are still on Laurent, though. There’s something like a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. “Are you telling me your hate for him was something else all this time?”

“You couldn’t pay me enough,” Nik tells him, “He says that he knows we’re close, and he didn’t want to have to fight me for your attention, that he’d like to share you.”

“Kinky,” Damen says because he can’t help himself, and Nik hits him, hard.

“We don’t talk about that time. And you owe me a hot bodyguard’s number,” he informs him, before pushing him. “Go on, then, before I stop you.” 

“Thanks, Nik,” and Damen fights his way through the crowd, all the way until he’s right there in front of Laurent.

“Come on,” Damen says to him, “I want you to hear something.”

\-------

They make their way through the people, both of them accepting congratulations - Laurent for his award as well, though he accepts them with decidedly more impatience than Damen - until they make their way out to the balcony.

Damen guides him to slip around the corner, where they can’t be seen by anyone else. Below them, the string lights on the lawn below twinkle, the gentle breeze pushing through the leaves. They’re alone, out here.

There’s a guitar resting out here. Laurent’s mouth curls up when he sees it. “Do you just have those strewn around the house for your passing whims?”

“I might have planted it,” Damen admits. “I had another idea for a song after you came here for the first time.”

The look in Laurent’s eyes is inscrutable. “It couldn’t wait?”

In response, Damen sits down, takes the guitar into his hands.

He plays the slow song he had come up with all those weeks ago. He thought of the way that Laurent used his words when he came up with it, used sharp syllables and crafted, drawn-out sounds to make the world turn and watch him.

He hadn’t realized it until he had gone into the studio to record it that it had been less about copying Laurent, and more about speaking to him. He had recorded something that had captured the way he had felt about him, after all, and when he had figured that out, the rest had come easily. He doesn’t sing, lets the instrument speak for him, the music cautious and hopeful all at once, and Laurent takes him in, watches him in this moment of intimacy with unblinking eyes.

At last, Damen lets the last few notes fade out between them. He clears his throat, says, “What do you think?”

Up close, Laurent is trembling. It’s nearly imperceptible except for up close like this when he’s scrutinizing Damen with that trademark intensity. “It sounds like a love song,” he says.

“I recorded it,” Damen says, “Thinking about you.”

“Why?”

“I think it’s obvious,” Damen says and holds his gaze. 

“I don’t - “ and Laurent breaks off. He swallows. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“I know.” Damen waits until he’s looking at him again. “I’m happy being your friend. But you deserve the truth, and I should say that I’m in love with you.”

“You don’t know me,” Laurent says. “You don’t know what I’ve done, what I’ve had to do - “

“I know I want to know you,” Damen says to him, and he sets down the guitar. “I know that I can’t get you off my mind. You drive me crazy - and I think that if I gave you my heart, you’d treat it well.”

“You can’t just say that,” Laurent says, and he closes his jaw so there’s an audible click. Damen waits, lets him collect his thoughts. “What if I can’t - what if I don’t know how to reciprocate?”

“You don’t have to know anything,” Damen says, open and soft and so hopeful it hurts his chest, because Laurent is still there in front of him, listening to him. “That’s all I want. I want you to be happy - I want to make you happy if you’ll let me.”

Laurent takes a small, hesitant step in front of him. “I still don’t understand you. How can you just say it so easily?”

“Sweetheart,” Damen says, “You don’t make _anything_ easy. I don’t care. It's why I - “ and he stops because he doesn’t want to scare him off again. He lets them hold the moment between them, as delicate as a thread in the wind right now, but something he hopes will strengthen over time.

Almost inaudibly, Laurent says, “Say it again.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. “I love you,” Damen says, and he holds out his hands. “Let me show you?"

\-------

He takes him to bed that night, though really it’s the next morning by the time people have cleared out, and mostly because Laurent says some absolutely filthy words about his opinion on the matter, which convince Damen far too easily.

If singing on a stage with Laurent was good, what’s better is learning how he shudders underneath him. How when Damen runs his teeth along his collarbone, along with the bumps on the back of his neck, tastes him and swallows him down and presses him into the sheets, the noises that Laurent makes. How Laurent curves his fingers around the back of Damen’s neck, with the lightest pressure, because even though he’s half of Damen’s size, he’s so delicate with him, so careful that Damen has to rise up and kiss him a thousand times more.

At one point, Damen moans this out, his hands up by the headboard, and is matched by Laurent’s own moans as he pins him there, moves his hips up and down above him. He looks like a work of art.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Damen tells him, as Laurent takes him in, blabs, “I love you, I _love_ you - “ and the sight of Laurent biting his lip and coming just like that is by far the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen in his life.

Quickly surpassed by Laurent, his hair a mess while he’s half asleep next to him, saying with closed eyes, “You do make me happy,” and Damen has to kiss him again and again just for that, until Laurent’s irritably swatting him away, and they can fall asleep.

\-------

Sometime later that morning, when the sun is up and they’re still comfortably in bed, Laurent says into his neck, “Oh, fuck.”

“No take-backs,” Damen says with a yawn.

“Not - fuck. I forgot my Grammy somewhere.”

“Did something distract you last night?”

“You’re an idiot,” Laurent says, and it’s fond. His fingers resume idly curling over his shoulders, the small of his back.

Damen would roll over to look at him, only Laurent’s weight is half over him, pressing him into the luxurious mattress. He says into the pillow, “It’s not like it’ll get mixed up with anyone else’s.”

“I’ll steal one of yours if it goes missing.”

“Mm. I have enough,” Damen says, and he twists around to try to kiss Laurent on the cheek. He mostly misses, landing somewhere in his hair. “You can have them all.”

“That was my plan, in all of this,” Laurent says, “Just to catch you unaware, to meltdown those ugly trophies into something more useful - “ and he’s cut off by Damen flipping them around, pressed him into the mattress again, until they’re both laughing, and it’s more than good.

It’s perfect.

\-------

TMZ @tmz— A SECRET WEDDING THAT SHAKES THE MUSIC INDUSTRY? Laurent Vere and Damianos, from secret steamy studio affair to musical matrimony: read more in our bio…

LV @princeofrock—-

Old news, @tmz. We bought a house together last month. lv

Damen @thedamianos—-

@princeofrock think you’re supposed to propose first, but I can tell you my answer if u would like ;)

(Liked by @princeofrock and 39,083 more…)


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